it's what i want, it's what i don't need
by girleater
Summary: Olive doesn't understand anything anymore. But really, did she ever? -hattie/olive- *twoshot.*
1. that awkward moment when

A/N: I have like a weird little soft spot for this ship. I like to call it _Holive. _Anyway, I like how it gives me the opportunity to portray Hattie in an unsympathetic light. I usually give her a little glimmer of redemption. But with Olive, I don't. Olive is young and naïve and confused and she doesn't understand what she's feeling for Hattie. She doesn't understand how her and Ella work. She doesn't understand her emotions about anything, and her admiration for Hattie is projecting itself as an intimate sort of thing. It just sounds very _Olive _to me. And Hattie is being _Hattie, _and using it and teasing it and making Olive feel bad. This has a second chapter in the works, so be patient. Enjoy.

Olive likes to watch her. It's as innocent as can be, she thinks while her eyes practically glue themselves to her sister's form. She would stare and her eyes would follow every movement, every slight action. Contrary to popular belief, Olive was very attentive. When one has nothing else to do but stare...

Olive did suppose sometimes that she had other options in regards to entertainment, but her older sister was proving to be all the entertainment she would ever need.

It had been that way for as long as she could remember.

Ever since she was old enough to register sights and sounds with a degree of comprehension, her eyes had been on Hattie. Hattie was obviously their mother's favorite-pampered and adored and loved to the point of an overdose. Olive, on the other hand...Olive kept to herself. She was never particularly fond of the high-society lifestyle her mother and sister lived in. Granted, she liked the money and the expensive food and the clothes, but it was far too much work to keep up perfect appearance 24/7.

So, instead Olive just watched. She stared and she admired. She watched Hattie grow and didn't really pay much attention to herself. Instead, she gave all of her attention to Hattie. Whether or not her sister noticed, that was debatable. But Olive wished she did, hoped she did. It was almost like she needed it, and she could never understand why.

Olive was never very smart, and she admitted it. She struggled with pretty much everything. Hattie was the opposite. She understood, she got things, and could actually carry herself without stumbling. She was sure her sister had her faults, but she didn't notice them. Not then, not now, not ever. And she didn't think she ever would, because admitting that Hattie had faults would be like admitting like Jesus was basically human. It would break the image of divinity, and Olive just couldn't have that.

Hattie was beautiful, Olive thought, watching as a maid tied her sister's corset.

The skin of her back was wonderfully pale, and Olive fleetingly considered touching it. Reaching out, and running her fingertips along the flesh and shuddering at how warm she must be. Hattie never hugged her sister-it was such a rare occurrence that Olive proffered to pretend that it just never happened. Because the truth was, it hurt to realize just how little it did happen.

Olive's eyes continued to burn holes into Hattie's back, and she briefly considered bolting out of the room, because the burning that was starting to overcome her was just becoming far too much to handle. She didn't understand this, and she didn't think she really wanted to.

"Olive," Hattie spoke, and god, the sound made Olive's ears ring. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, but it was certainly enough to make her want to groan.

"Yes?" Olive's voice was low and tense, and she tried to clear her throat and make the little lump that was steadily rising in it go away.

"Do you like this dress, sister-dear?"

Olive didn't like it when Hattie called her that.

It made her feel...weird.

"Um...I like it just fine. It's pretty."

It was so much more than pretty. It was gorgeous and perfect and the way the dark red flushed against Hattie's skin made Olive's face tinge pink. She wondered if Hattie noticed it. She really hoped she didn't.

"Are you sure...?" Hattie crossed the room, and sat beside her sister. Their shoulders touched-just for a second, but the contact was already making Olive sweat.

"I have a purple one, too..."

"I-I-I like the um the red one..." Olive felt her face go red.

"You do?"

Hattie was too close. Olive didn't like it. Didn't want it. Wanted it. Didn't...why was her face coming so close...sisters...isn't this supposed to be...why...

"You should get dressed, too." Hattie's mouth was an inch away from Olive's and the younger sister's mind was reeling and hurting and even though Olive could never figure out much, she had a strange feeling-a stabbing ache in her gut that her sister knew.

"I...yes..." Olive didn't want to speak. She wanted to crawl under a rock and stay there and wait for ogres to come and eat her.

Hattie's breath smelled like peppermint and tea, and Olive was trying hard to forget about it.

Hattie's lips then curled into a smirk as Olive's breath caught in her throat.

Olive wanted to kiss her sister, and her sister knew it.


	2. never again will i kiss you

Olive was pretty sure she was going to spontaneously combust. Hattie's eyes were making her insides feel all funny, and she wasn't quite sure how to fix the feeling. She just knew she wanted a kiss, and really, could that be all bad? They were sisters...right? This was okay...right?

Olive was having a rather difficult time convincing herself.

"What are you going to wear?" Somehow, the question seemed to carry a kind of subtext that Olive wasn't sure she was entirely comfortable with.

"I...b-blue..."

"Blue! Lovely. You'll look lovely, won't you?"

Olive just nodded. Hattie's mouth was still far too close, and she didn't want to risk any drastic movements, for fear that...something would happen. She just didn't really want to admit what.

Olive had only ever heard about kisses from what little books she had read and by what she had seen her mother bestow upon one Sir or the next, sometimes a Duke. It always looked nice-kisses, always looked so intimate and private that they made Olive blush and look away quickly or turn the page of her book so hurriedly that a Mistress would scold her for doing so.

Olive had never wanted a kiss, not before this.

Olive felt herself tense. Her entire body was rigid and coiled, and it was as if she were a cat. Olive had always liked cats, and she certainly felt like one. She wanted nothing more than to bound out of the room on all fours, and never come back. Or curl up somewhere with a bowl of tuna, and lose herself in food. But, Hattie's eyes were mesmerizing. They made Olive ache, and the whereabouts of this particular ache made her want to cry.

As far as biology went, she had garnered enough from finishing school and her mother's extensive collection of…_novels _to understand exactly what was causing that ache.

And she hated knowing it.

Hattie was making her feel all funny, and the smirk turning up the sides of her older sister's mouth only signaled her sadistic pleasure.

There was heat-body heat and the smell of lavender and vanilla. Olive liked vanilla, but lavender made her sleepy.

"What's the matter, Olive?" Hattie asked, breath hot and tantalizing, hitting Olive's face and making her shiver.

"Why are you doing this…" Olive squeaked-a squeak that sounded so pathetic it made her wince. She had never felt so helpless. So tense and shaking with a need so foreign and overwhelming that her eyes wanted to roll back into her head.

"Because you want it…"

Olive wanted to die.

Hattie's lips had pressed against hers suddenly, soft and **hot **and _wet. _Olive moaned-a sound she'd never made before. This wasn't the kind of moan she made when she fell down the stairs the week before, hitting her leg on the wall and bruising herself terribly. No, this was _pleasure. _

Hattie placed her hands on Olive's shoulders, pushing her down and pinning her to the bed. Olive squirmed, desperate to escape Hattie's grasp, but eager to receive more physical attentions.

"This is what you _wanted _me to do, sister-dear…" Hattie's breath was on her neck, and she felt hips pressing against her own-pelvis-to-pelvis and _god, _the ache was _unbearable _now…

"Please…no, no, I don't…"

"You don't want? Want me to kiss you? I beg to differ, _Ollie._"

Teeth scraped down her neck, and Olive was suddenly painfully aware that this was nothing like the kisses she'd read about.

This _hurt. _

Those teeth felt sharp as daggers, and Olive was sure blood would start to flow freely from her neck.

She didn't want to bleed.

She wanted to feel loved.

Safe.

Not _this. _

"Hattie…"

"That's right. Say my name again."

Olive bit her tongue, determined to keep herself as quiet as possible.

Unfortunately, Hattie was having none of that.

Teeth sank into her neck, and Olive yelped and managed to summon enough strength to free herself from her sister's hold.

Hattie nearly fell off her bed, managing to barely catch herself and stifle a growl of rage.

Olive bolted, going as quickly as her feet would take her, eager to escape and eager to cry herself to sleep or sob until there was nothing left.


End file.
